Girl Detective

Born Yesterday has been languishing on my Tivo for ages. I recorded it during one of TCM’s month of Oscars, so I think it’s been there over two years. When I finally watched it, I was pleased that I had kept it around.

A junk tycoon, Harry Brock, decides his girlfriend, Billie (Judy Holliday) needs to improve her manners. He hires a reporter, played by William Holden, to tutor her. Holliday is a delight as Billie, and the movie is worth seeing for her performance alone. She’s so good she even upstages Holden.

Holliday won the best actress Oscar that year, over Bette Davis in All About Eve, and Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard. Some griped that Holliday had an unfair advantage; she’d played the role of Billie on stage for four years. And in spite of that, she was far from the first pick for the role!

For Battlestar Galactica geeks (redundant?), I did a little googling of the significance of the number seven, which is the number of the last unknown Cylon model. From Religious Tolerance:

The Greek Phythagoreans believed that the number seven pointed symbolically to the union of the Deity with the universe. This association was picked up by the Christian church, especially during the Middle Ages. Seven was regarded as having sacred power, as in the seven cardinal virtues, seven deadly sins, seven sacraments, seven churches mentioned in the last book in the Bible, Revelation, etc.

More, from Wikipedia and Bible Wheel.

My guess is Baltar, not Starbuck or Adama.

Continuing my way through Bryan K. Vaughan’s widely acclaimed post-apocalyptic comic-book series Y the Last Man, I finished Volume 5, Ring of Truth. Several important things take place, most notably the explanation for why Yorick Brown and his monkey Ampersand were the only male mammals to survive the plague. Between a murderous ninja (redundant?), and a hallucinating Hero (capitalization intended), Vaughan throws some backstory and red herrings into the mix. It’s a fast-paced story that caused me to switch after book 5 to the monthly individual issues, since I couldn’t wait the many months for the next collected volume to come out. Now that the series is done, however, I recommend you seek out the volumes, not the individual issues. They’re filled with distracting ads; the collections are concentrated story.

I read on in individual issues to the end putting off both a nap and bedtime; I value sleep so much, given its lack in my life because of small kids, that this is a high compliment. I cried at the last issue, yet found it hopeful and satisfying. Y is a good story, with strong characters, and lots of savory subplots that support that strong overarching narrative.

As we set off, late again, for music class this morning, I lamented, “Drake, if you listened, we’d be on time. You didn’t, and we’re late. How can I help you learn to listen?”

Drake replied immediately, and matter of factly, “Go to the Learn to Listen Shop, Mom.”

The Bank Job is a good, old-fashioned heist movie. Jason Statham is surprisingly effective and restrained as Terry Southern a decent family man with a vague past who’s in trouble with the local goons. Out of the past pops Saffron Burrows, who was their Jenny from the Block before rising then crashing as a model. She pitches Terry a “one more time” crime that he and his friends know is too good to be true, but they do it anyway. A complicated mishmash ensues that includes corrupt police, MI-5, an angry madame, a porn king, a ham radio enthusiast, a black radical, an undercover agent, and a public figure who got caught, literally, with her pants down. Set in the 70’s, it’s reminded me of movies from that era, like The French Connection. There’s no excess of hand-held camera, tongue-in-cheek humor, or flashy jump cuts. This is a solid, enjoyable crime flick.

Quibbles and bits: Saffron Burrows has a distractingly chiseled and symmetrical face. I can’t find any mention online that she’s had plastic surgery, but her cleft chin and protuberant cheekbones looked suspicious to me. She also reminded me a lot of Padma Lakshmi, a judge on Top Chef. I kept waiting for her to tell recalcitrant gang members to pack their knives and go. Keeley Hawes, formerly of MI-5, does a sympathetic turn as Terry’s wife.

I took 4yo Drake and 2yo Guppy bowling this morning. A local alley is very kid friendly–they put up bumpers in the gutters, have a ramp to roll the ball down, and serve lunch at the lane.

Guppy won. And not by a little, either. He had 92 to my 74 to Drake’s 60. Was it beginner’s luck? Who knows? But I think I’ll stick to bowling with little kids if I can only manage a 74 WITH BUMPERS.

Sheesh.

My husband G. Grod and I finally started to rein in our household spending, and one of the first things we did was establish a grocery budget. As I’ve worked with the budget, I’ve changed my shopping habits, and with practice I’ve reduced our grocery bill with better planning and fewer impulse buys.

One of the key cost saving measures is buying items from the bulk aisle. Our grocery coop has an impressive selection of items. And if I plan ahead, I can bring my own containers to fill, so I’m reducing waste and not paying for packaging. I now buy a huge number of our staples in bulk: eggs, peanut butter, honey, olive oil, vanilla, pasta, flour, sugar, granola, popcorn, dried fruit and other baking supplies like oats and nuts.

Not only has our weekly grocery bill gone down, but this helps with inventory control, as I’m able to buy just a little at a time, and our recycling has been reduced, because we’re buying much less packaging.

Our coop is having a sale on bulk till the end of April; if you live nearby, give it a try. Bring your own bags, bring your own bulk containers, and save money, space, and waste.

On Monday, I took 4yo Drake and 2yo Guppy to our grocery coop. I sent Drake off to get a dozen bulk eggs. He returned, proud of himself, with an intact carton. Unfortunately, he put them in the cart within Guppy’s reach, so when I turned around, Guppy quickly emptied five of them into the cart, where they broke. The other woman shopping in produce thought laughed, not unkindly, as I hustled to scoop up the dripping eggs and see if they could be used in the deli. (The manager said she’d take them home for her dogs.)

In the bulk aisle, Guppy asked for a chocolate chip. I gave him one. ONE. The next time I turned around, he had chocolate all over his face, his hands, his jacket, and the plush mouse I’d borrowed from the cheese case to distract him. The woman at the register laughed, and said he’d used it like a crayon.

At checkout, Drake insisted on taking his little cart of some of our items to the next register, while Guppy began to scream when I told him he couldn’t have chocolate milk, since we had some at home. The nice woman behind me and her 7yo daughter distracted Guppy till he stopped screaming, and assured me that things get easier. A friend distracted Drake so I could sneak over to the next register and scoop up our items that he’d “helpfully” placed on the conveyer. Amazingly, he didn’t scream at my interference.

It was actually very nice that people were kind enough to see the humor, even as I was struggling with damage control. It’s much better than those “whose kid is THIS?” look that I dread.

A new episode of Bones aired this week, and I was glad for its return.

Did anyone else recognize the actress who played Sweets’ girlfriend April as Delia Fisher from My So Called Life, the nice girl who had a crush on Ricky? Her name is Senta Moses.

The trademark Bones banter was in the forefront, the snoozy murder in the background, and there were some excellent scenes featuring all the main characters.

There was no mention of this season’s big bad, Gormogon, but a recent blurb in EW said the identity would be revealed this season. When asked if it was Sweets, the creator laughed. I hope that meant it’s absurd, because he’s a great recurring character. Why do I think it’s not absurd? He obsessed over the file in an ep earlier this season, and as a psychologist has access to impressionable and possibly criminal young boys.

To Terra is a manga graphic novel that’s been on my shelf since last year; I got it after seeing this rec from Entertainment Weekly:

In Keiko Takemiya’s To Terra: Vol. 1, a computer developed to produce children accidentally creates mutants with telepathic abilities. This exiled race, the Mu, turns to impetuous young Jomy to lead them back to their home planet, Terra, which was nearly destroyed by generations of wasteful humans.

For Fans of…
Classic manga minus the blood and gore; Star Wars.

Does It Deliver?
With sharp illustrations and a fast-paced, cerebral plot, Terra is good, clean fun. B+

I’d add that it might also be for fans of Lord of the Rings; there’s a Frodo/Sam relationship going on with two of the characters, and a blind psychic who’s reminiscent of Galadriel. I didn’t have much fun; this wasn’t my cuppa. I did enjoy reading back to front and right to left, but I didn’t always find the illustrations sharp enough to read quickly, or the word bubbles placed in a clear order. In the end, I think this might be best for younger readers and manga fans.

I took a breather in my bender of 2007 books for my book group’s pick, Jill Ker Conway’s Road from Coorain. It’s a memoir of her girlhood on a sheep farm in outback Australia, her education through university, and her difficult and changing relationships with her family, especially her mother.

Conway is a skilled writer. The beginning of the book is a eulogy to her childhood and the few happy years her family lived on a successful sheep farm, prior to a five year drought.

When my father left in the morning to work on the fences, or on one of the three bores that watered the sheep and cattle, my mother heard no human voice save the two children. There was no contact with another human being and the silence was so profound it pressed upon the eardrums. My father, being a westerner, born into that profound peace and silence, felt the need for it like an addiction to a powerful drug. Here, pressed into the earth by the weight of that enormous sky, there is real peace. To those who know it, the annihilation of the self, subsumed into the vast emptiness of nature, is akin to a religious experience. We children grew up to know it and seek it as our father before us. What was social and sensory deprivation for the stranger was the earth and sky that made us what we were. For my mother, the emptiness was disorienting, and the loneliness and silence a daily torment of existential dread.

After she leaves the outback, she begins to recognize Australia as a country unto itself. She was raised and schooled with England, the great colonizer, as the ideal in all things. She carefully chronicles her developing consciousness of Australia’s social and historical tensions. On visiting England for the first time:

My landscape was sparer, more brilliant in color, stronger in its contrast, majestic in its scale,and bathed in shimmering light.

Conway went on to become a noted historian of women’s history in America, and the president of Smith College. This memoir of her early years is an engaging look into one woman’s struggle for intellectual independence from the constraints of Australian education, and emotional independence from her mother.

Interestingly, there were a few things in this book that reminded me of Marianne Wiggins’ Shadow Catcher, written last year. The description of the self-crushing isolation above is similar to how Wiggins writes of the drive from California to Las Vegas. And both books feature fathers who die early, and somewhat mysteriously, and the children’s subsequent troubled relationship with the mother. I was surprised and pleased to find common threads in these two seemingly random books from my reading pile.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz is very good. It won the National Book Critics Circle Award, the Morning News Tournament of Books, and the Pulitzer.

Oscar is a pudgy social outcast whose family came from the Dominican Republic. In short segments, we learn about him, his sister Lola, his mother, and finally, about the narrator Yunior and his relationship to the family. Theirs is an immigrant story, about the old world and the new, told in a unique snappy, geeky, Spanish-slang-filled patois. Is the family’s string of tragedies a curse, “fuku”, or is their survival good fortune? Is it just life?

The world is full of tragedies enough without niggers having to resort to curses for explanations.

That’s Yunior’s take at one point, though he wavers. What the reader thinks is left open. There are passages of magical realism, of unbelievable survival, of astonishing love. This book reminded me of Middlesex because of its old/new world ancestral histories, and of Michael Chabon’s Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay because of its brazen comic-book and sci-fi/fantasy geek love. My only regret is that I was whisked out of each character’s life just as I got deeply into their story.

The PBS Complete Jane Austen finished Sunday with the second part of a new, 3-hour adaptation of Sense and Sensibility. Much stronger than the other new adaptations of Persuasion, Mansfield Park and Northanger Abbey, SS08 benefited from its extra 90 minutes of screen time. It was able to do justice to the story and to characters that the other, shorter adaptations simply couldn’t manage. It does, though, have the tough circumstance of comparison to both the popular book and Ang Lee’s popular 1995 film adaptation.

SS08 opens shockingly, with a steamy love scene. Outraged, I thought, “That’s not in the book; they’re sexing this up on purpose!” A few seconds later I recalled who the couple must be, and that this scene WAS part of the book, though not told in present-tense detail. Interesting, I thought, but pointless to all who have read the story, and even all who are somewhat familiar with Austen’s books, which all include an initially charming guy who turns out to be a cad; in SS it’s Willoughby. And Willoughby, in this new adaptation, is so obviously oily and up to no good that it’s a mystery why Marianne falls for him, and why no one else suspects him.

I’ll skip to what I liked first. Hattie Morahan was absolutely wonderful as Elinor. Sympathetic, believable, vulnerable, and strong. David Morrissey as Colonel Brandon was likewise quite good. He ably captured the quiet, steadfast, tormented older man who’s had his heart broken, and has no pretty illusions.

I’d forgotten why SS was my least favorite Austen novel, and in a well-drawn but painful sequence SS08 reminded me why. Marianne, while often foolish and trying, is talented and spirited. After she is dumped by Willoughby and rescued by Brandon, she slowly grows to love the latter. For all his upright nice-guy-ness, though, Brandon is nearly twenty years her senior, and he’ll have a muffling effect on her exuberance. SS08 captured this in a scene where Marianne enters his dark library, sits down at the pianoforte, wipes a hand across the top–affection, or dusting?–and proceeds to play a slow, dark tune in minor key. The interior scene is interpolated with one of her going outside to see Brandon, who has unhooded his hawk, set it “free” to fly, then called it back and snared its feet. In the book, Austen attempts to gloss over their differences by saying that they will be good for one another, but I think some of bright, dynamic Marianne will be lost forever in that safe, stable marriage. That may have been Austen’s point, but it doesn’t endear the story to me.

My other reservations about SS08 are minor, but they accumulated. The mother’s character is muddy–instead of foolish like Marianne she comes off as merely stupid. Dan Stevens as Edward Ferrars seems to be doing an impression of Hugh Grant from the ‘96 film. Likewise Claire Skinner as Fanny Ferrars Dashwood seems to be doing a Miranda Richardson impression. There’s far too little of Mr. Palmer, and I missed his snarky comments. There were far too many moody shots of water crashing on rocky shores. And, as with the other new adaptations, WHY OH WHY the shaky, hand-held camera? That’s gotten tired in action movies; there’s absolutely no call for it in Victorian England!

At the end, I found it a mixed bag. Some excellent things, some good things, several bad things. Worth watching on television, but I would not buy the DVD. For more commentary, see Austenblog, and Maureen Ryan’s The Watcher.

The Kitchn is the dangerous food blog at dangerously cool Apartment Therapy, the site that featured those bookshelf stairs a few weeks ago. AT is dangerous because it shows all kinds of cool, covetable thing that I can’t afford. Kitchn is dangerous because it’s like foodie Alice down the rabbit hole–I see one recipe I like, then they link to another, and on and on. I only wish they had a good print feature for the recipes so I don’t have to cut and paste them into Open Office. Bonus points, as if needed, for their incisive recaps of Top Chef Chicago.

Bitten, on the other hand, at the NYT, has a very handy print feature. It’s the blog of Mark Bittman, patron cook of simple good food and a very knowledgeable commenting audience.

Also, raised as I was by a feminist mother, on Ms. magazine, the sense that you can have it all was instilled in all of us — and I’m really glad that it was. But when motherhood pulls you in one direction, and work pulls you in another, that sense becomes diluted. Somebody said to me long ago that it’s not a question of having it all, but that you can have a lot of most things. That’s a nice way to think about it. Think about if your life is going in the direction you want it to go, and try not to be riddled with self-doubt.

(interview link from Bookslut)

Wolitzer’s new book is a fictional take on the work/home mommy debate, set in NYC. It’s gotten a good review at EW, and at Mental Multivitamin. I keep saying I’m going to get back to my home book shelves, but there’s too much that tempts me, like this.

“Do the test” (link thanks to Boing Boing) is part of a safety campaign in London. It highlights something called “change blindness” which was also in the NYT science section last week.

Funny and disturbing.

Last November, children’s book author/illustrator extraordinaire Mo Willems announced that he was writing a new Pigeon book, and that the title began, “The Pigeon Wants A…” School kids were invited to write in with their guesses. The publisher received over 13,000 replies; many schoolteachers galvanized their classes for group replies. (Links thanks to ALoTT5MA)

Well, April 1 was the announcement date. Here is what the Pigeon wants. Unfortunately, it may be what my son, 4yo Drake, wants too.

We’ll get the book. Not the other thing, though.

Third time’s a charm–my husband G. Grod and I FINALLY made it out to dinner to celebrate our birthdays from last month. We’d had to cancel the sitter twice due to the kids being sick, then our sitter went on Spring Break and, voila, a month had passed.

Nick and Eddie was my first choice based on recent good reviews in City Pages and Minnesota Monthly, which is the new host of my favorite local food writer, Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl.

Loved: Our quiet table in a nook. One of the two breads–the lighter, sweeter one. G. Grod’s spicy steak entree over mashed potatoes and collard greens. My poached salmon. (While the potatoes with it weren’t done, the server was very nice about it, and comped my dessert.) Both our desserts: my butterscotch pudding, his chocolate roll up. The friendly, attentive but not intrusive service.

Liked: My pate appetizer, borscht, and the other, denser bread.

Regrets: Cold butter tore up the very good bread. I had to warm it over the candle. And I was very sad to choose between the butterscotch pudding and the spice cake, so I’ll have to go again and get that dessert.

Overall, good service, good meal, fabulous desserts.

I finally made it to Spoonriver, the newer restaurant of Minneapolis foodie legend, and genuinely nice person, Brenda Langton. A friend and I chose it over Cue before seeing Jane Eyre at the Guthrie.

Loved: The mushroom terrine appetizer–perfect for a winter evening. The beet ravioli with braised kale. Getting my veggies was a delight.

Liked: My friend’s special of a butternut squash enchilada was too heavily spiced for me, but the accompanying slaw was delicious and cool.

Regrets: We ran out of toasts before we ran out of terrine, and we ran out of time before we could order dessert.

Next time I’ll make time for dessert. And there will be a next time. Spoonriver was lovely.

My no-longer-baby Guppy has decidedly entered his terrible twos. He’s still sweet and good natured, so things are not so much terrible as trying. Yesterday I had to chase him down to get him dressed, as he wouldn’t come to me. I finally got him up in a bear hug.

He turned to me with his frowny face, the one that always makes me laugh, and said, “Have some consideration, Mommy!” (A phrase he parrots of his older brother, 4yo Drake, who gleaned it from a story in George and Martha Round and Round. I think they think it means “Stop bothering me!”)

Drake, overhearing this, called out, “Mom doesn’t need consideration!”

Well, “needs” and “gets” are two very different things.